


My Own Cinderella

by midnightmagic21



Category: Cinderella (Fairy Tale)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightmagic21/pseuds/midnightmagic21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my own version of Cinderella. Same plotline with a few twists (Cinderella is a teenager, Fairy Godmother also a little younger). Hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clocks

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love all the Disney classics (Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Cinderella, etc.) and I decided to write this! Yay! I dunno, is that a good thing? It may or may not be, anyway, enjoy! Comments, reveiws, suggestions, constructive critisism, I accept them all!

If there hadn't been a clock tower in this kingdom, I would have run into many problems in life. Like the day of my 5th birthday. If the clock hadn't chimed at 7 o'clock that morning I wouldn't have woken up to see the birthday breakfast my father had made me. Or perhaps when I was 7 and I had gone out picking wildflowers in the feild behind our house. If the tower had not warned me that it was 5 o'clock in the evening, I would not have made it home time for supper.  
Of course there were other times. Such as the day of my father's remarraige. That day was one of the worste days of my life. But I didn't know that yet. I was 8 and dressed in a beautiful white silk gown, spreading red rose petals down the isle in front of my soon-to-be stepmother.  
You see, my real mother had died in childbirth and my father had raised my alone. He was so kind and loving, I was content to have only him. But he saw to it that i had a mother. The woman was tall, with raven black hair, striking green eyes, and sharp cheek bones and chin. She was not ugly, but certainly not the beauty my real mother was. Not only was she not as lovely, but she certainly wasn't as kind. But I didn't know that yet either.  
The woman's own two daughters, both my age, trailed behind her holding her train. There was Drizzilla, a snooty, know it all with black hair and green eyes much like her mother's. Certainly not beautiful, though. Then there was Anastasia. Whiney, oversensitive, clumsy Anastasia. She was slightly prettier and nicer. She had red hair that was always done in ringlets with a pink bow, and the same green eyes that seemed to run in her family.  
The clock struck excactly 1 o'clock in the afternoon as my father and his new bride made there way out of the church.  
But the clock's services were not always done under such kind circumstances.  
There was the day of my father's funeral.  
The rain drizzled slowly from the sky matching the pace of the tears that rolled down my cheeks. The sky was pitch black with storm clouds matching the color of my silk dress and the rest of the clothing in the solemn church.  
Family friends silently wept all around me as I trudged my way up the isle toward my father. My stepmother, who was now seated in the front row, had gone with her two daughters just before me to pay her respects. I, being my fathers daughter by blood, got to go separately.  
I laid a white lily on the black coffin and knelt, sobbing uncontrolably, forgetting time completely. The sun did not show all day. If not for the clock tower, I wouldn't have known to leave the church after everyone else already had.  
Five years passed with the clock always there to wake me up and tell me when to go to bed. I was now 15 years old and a servent in the house that was once mine. The creature that was my stepmother was determined to make life wonderful for her own obnoxious, cruel daughters while making me a slave to their every whim.  
The clock was still there, though. Up on the hill with the king's palace, ready to wake me up every morning. But that clock would be so very important, again, for me. I just didn't know it yet.


	2. Good Dreams and Not-So-Good Mornings

The royal ballroom was breathtaking.  
I had only ever seen it in paintings sold at the market, never in person, and yet here I stood in the most gorgeus gown ever in the center of the marbled floor. The ivory pillars surrounded me and in a way sepatated me from the rest of the crowd of ball gowns and chatter. The massive floor to ceiling windows acroos from me overlooked the entire starlit kingdom.  
My gown? It was a fine silk, blue gown with four layers and mathing slippers with the slightest amout of a heel. Perfect for dancing in.  
My dark gold hair fell in ringlets down my back with the front tied up by a blue bow.  
Suddenly, a light tap on my shoulder. I turned to face whomever it was and saw a handsome young man with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. He wore black dress pants and shoes as well as a white tunic with a gold belt and shoulder pads. The Prince.  
Wordlessly, he held out his hand, bowing slightly. I took it and not a second later, we were spinning gracefully across the floor.  
The most beautiful melodies wafted through the air as we danced and danced until he dipped me down low and his lips were an inch from mine.  
So close.... just another inch and...  
DONG DONG DONG!  
There was the trusty clock tower to wake me up, regardless of how wonderful my dreams were.  
A low howling erupted from downstairs and I paniced. It was always this way. The moment the clock chimed Bruno, my dog, would begin howling. Of course I would then rush downstairs in my nightdress to silence him before Stepmother awoke. You see, I had rescued Bruno off the streets when he was a pup. Upon bringing him home, Stepmother labled him as a mangy mutt that deserved to live on the streets. However, after I begged and explained that I would be responsible for him, she agreed. So, now he lived in the basement and if he upset any member of this family, including our evil cat, Lucifer, it was my fault.  
Once downstairs, I found Bruno and fed him his breakfast of meat scraps to quiet him. Then I wandered back upstairs to dress for the day. My usual brown dress and white apron lay in the chipped wooden chair along with a white cloth to wrap around my head. I dressed and took a blue silk ribbon, the only fine accessory I owned, and tied my dark gold hair. My clear blue eyes were clouded with sleep but no matter, I had chores. What a boring day it seemed to be.


	3. Chores and Invitations

With a tray balanced in each hand and on my head, I made my up the stairs of the richly decorated manor. Setting one tray on the tabled out side my sister (could I even call her that?) Drizzilla's room, I gave the heavy white door a push letting light flood in the room of my sleeping sister.  
Drizzilla was passed out on her bed her black curls every which way, her green nightdress twisted and her matching bonet pulled over her face. I quietly set the breakfast tray on her nightstand and patted her shoulder.  
"What? Oh, Cinderella it's only you. Well don't just stand there, stupid. I have laundry to be done!" She barked at me as I grabbed her bag of laundry and exited.  
Now balancing a tray in each hand and a laundry bag on my head, I headed for Anastasia's quarters.  
Anastasia was in a similar state when I woke her.  
"Hmmmm.... Cinderella, don't forget the mending. I have dresses with tears, that's hardly suitable. Go on now..." she said in a sleepy state, yawning every so often.  
Now holding two bags of clothing and a tray on my head, I headed for my Stepmother's room. The door opened to reveal my mother already awake, sitting upright in bed, stroking our demon cat, Lucifer. "Goodmorning, Stepmother," I said while setting the tray on her night table. "Your usual chores for the day Cinderella and don't forget, Lucifer needs his bath," she barked. Lucifer, practically glared up at her. I swear he understands everything we say. Picking up my Stepmothers laundry, I took my leave to start on my work. ************************************************************* It was a little after noon and the sun shone brightly through the windows of the manor into the foyer. The glistening tile floors were wet with soap that I had just washed them with. I was down on my hands and knees, scrubbing every inch of tile while my ears were tortured by the sounds of the 'music lesson' upstairs. Stepmother was helping Anastaisia tune her flute while Drizzilla was doing vocal warm ups that about made my ears bleed. Then they began their duet. It was one of my favorite songs, Sing Sweet Nightingail, and I hated hearing it sung this way. So, I started to sing. "Sing sweet nightingail, sing sweet nightingail, high above me...." I sang, hoping they didn't hear me. If I ever disturbed their music practice, I would be punished. But, that rule had it's acceptions. Like when the unexpected knock came from the door. I hurried to open it and was shocked to see a messenger from the palace dressed in his red coat and powdered wig. "A message from the palace!" He shouted even though he was feet from me. I winced slightly and accepted the envelope from him with a meek thank you. The door shut and I examinded the large envelope with the royal seal on it. "Wonder if I'm allowed to interupt music class for this," I said sarcastically. Quickly, I went up stairs and knock on the door. The so called music stopped abruptly and I entered. "Cinderella! What did I tell you about interupting this lesson?" She bellowed, clearly enraged. I hoped my news would make her happy. "Forgive me, this just came from the palace," I said offering the letter. Stepmother's eyes went wide as sh ripped open the envelope. "There's to be a ball! Tonight at the palace to celebrate the prince's homecoming!" My sisters squealed something about the prince and true love and marraige which I couldn't help but laugh at. "It says 'By royal command, all eligible maidens are to attend in hopes that the prince will choose a bride at last!" Anastasia almost fainted, Drizzilla started barking orders at me to prepare her finest gown, Stepmother took a deep breath and yelled "Silence girls!" My new orders for the rest of the day were to help them all prepare for the ball. While I help Drizzilla pick out her gown she decided to make some mocking comments to me as usual. "Cinderella what are you going to where to the ball?" Then Anastasia joined in. "Oh yes Cinderella dancing with the prince! Drizzilla can't you just see it? 'I'm honored your highness! Would you mind holding my broomstick?" She pitched voice high and nasal at the end to mock me and they both busted up laughing. "Actually, I could care less about the ball. I have no desire to waste my evening in a tight gown and corset amongst a bunch of pompous rich people who think of no one but theselves. However, I forsee that you two will fit in perfectly. And I'm sure either one of you would be a perfect wife for the prince, the most pompous fool of them all," I said always keeping my calm composure. They glared at me and resumed tightening Drizzilla's corset, probably a bit harder that I should. Perhaps a cracked rib might teach her a lesson? I sighed. The prince... oh the prince, though handsome and charming, was a rich fool who cared nothing of servants like me... so why should I care about him?


	4. Chapter 4

All thepreparations had been made. Drizzilla was dressed in her finest green, fullskirted gown with pufffy sleeves and a lime colored feather clip stuck in her ringlets. Anastasia was wearing a matching pink gown, with a similar cherry red feather in her hair. If you asked me, they looked like a couple of awkward flouresent colored birds.  
Stepmother was wearing an elegant purple gown with long sleeves and a high neck.  
I was holding the door for them as they all flounced out without so much as a word to me. The sound of the carraige pulling away told me they were gone.  
Suddenly, a feeling of strange and utter despair swept through me. The message about the ball had informed us that every eligable maiden was to attend, and, while I could care less about the prince, I had to wonder, was I no longer eligable? Of course not, I was a servant in this house. But it hadn't always been this way. Truthfully, I was born a noblewoman. My father was high up in the royal courts, on the kings advisory council. As a child, he always told me that I was born into high society and that one day, my life would be full of balls and excitement and eventually a happily ever after. Surely if my father were still alive I would be out dancing the night away, meeting people, maybe even that 'special someone'. Of course, it was unlikely for me to meet the love of my life in one evening but it was worth a shot. After all, as of this year I was of marrying age and I wanted nothing more than to meet a wonderful man, get married and settle down far, far, FAR away from here. Another thought that frequently crossed my mind and occasionally confused me. Most noblemen are engaged at their birth. So I had to wonder, was I? Had my stepmother been hiding it from me? I often wished to go to kingdom library and root through the records myself to see if I were betrothed. But, seeing as my only trips outside this estate were to a market with other servants, that was impossible.  
A fresh surge of sadness and despair washed over me as I paced out to the garden for some fresh air, trying to ignore my heartache.  
I sat on a bench under a large willow tree and stared up at the moon. Shockingly, I felt something warm trickle down my cheeks. Tears? Strange, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to cry. I had not shed tears since I was first forced into servitude at the age of ten. But as years passed pain and sorrow became typical emotions that I never escaped. Ultimately, I became numb to them. Now, it was a strange feeling of sadness and relief to let it out. A moment later and I was sobbing uncontrollably into my hands.  
Then, I felt a gentle, feather-like touch to my hair as a few stray locks were swept off my face. I looked up to an amazing sight. A beautiful fairy was floating above me, wings glistening in the moonlight, looking like a messenger from heaven above.

She was about the size of my palm, clad in a light blue fluttery dress with long flowing sleeves. She looked young, maybe my age, with bright blue eyes and long silvery blode hair.  
"Hello, I'm Luna, your Fairy Godmother," she said in a bell-like voice.  
"My fairy what?"  
"Godmother," she replied cooly.  
"How? You look about as old as me!" I was astounded. A fairy Godmother? I didn't even know fairies existed!  
"You'd be suprised at how old I am, darling. And you'll be suprised at some other things I can do," she said with a wink and a wave of her wand.  
Instantly, I knew tonight would be far from ordinary.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and critique are a greatly apriciated!


End file.
